Brothers
by Gandalf3213
Summary: He had been missing for only hours when Frank first found out. Most people gave up looking after five days. Halfway into the second week Frank is one of the only ones still looking, and he won't give up until his brother is found
1. Dating

**I don't own the Hardys.**

Frank threw his backpack into the back of the _Sleuth._ He glanced over at Callie and smiled broadly. It was hard not to smile. This was the first date they had been able to go on in weeks, which was why they were going as far away from Bayport as possible. Hopefully, no mysteries would pop up.

Frank drove while Callie leaned against him, marveling at how good it felt o be sitting next to her. How right it felt to have her breath tickling his ear.

They talked about everything. Movies and classes and football and mysteries. I was almost impossible to run out of conversation.

Callie told him to turn, pointing to an outcropping of rocks. On the top of a short, steep climb, was a ledge just asking for a picnic basket.

So they left the boat and climbed. This didn't bother either of them in the least, and they even started laughing when Frank tripped and landed face-first in dirt.

The view was spectacular. The sun was just starting to go down, but since it was the middle of the summer, Frank didn't even think about trying to get the boat back in the dark. They watched until the last of the pink disappeared before starting back.

The journey home was much the same. They still had a conversation, but it was a sleepy one with frequent lapses where they'd just stare ahead, holding hands. Perfectly content.

Frank docked the boat and helped Callie out, quickly securing it to the dock with a knot that wouldn't come undone. They walked towards the Hardys' old van.

After Frank wished Callie good-night, he stole a kiss, smiling at her blush. "See ya tomorrow, girl. There's a big party at the beach and you're the only girl worth going with."

She smiled at him, walking into the house. She waved once before closing the door.

Frank got back in the car and drove the couple of blocks to his house. He was surprised to find a cop car just departing it, and was more then a little worried when he walked through the door.

"Mom?" he called, putting his keys on the small table in the front hall. "Dad?"

A snuffling sound came from the kitchen. He found his mother leaning against a counter crying. His father had his arms around her. Across from them was Iola Morton, trying desperately not to cry herself.

Frank knew instantly that one of two things had happened, neither of them good. "Mom, what wrong?" he walked forward and rubbed his mother's shoulder, looking at her tear-stained face. "Where's Joe?"

Iola answered, her voice wavering. Every now and then she let out a small hiccup. "Frank, Joe's gone. We were on a date and he...he got taken."

Frank swayed. There had been news like this before, but he could never get used to it. He gripped onto the counter so hard his knuckles whitened.

"Frank, I think Joe's been kidnapped."

**More information coming up, all you have to do is review.**


	2. Moving

**I own it not**

Frank blinked several times, trying to clear his head. "Okay, Iola-" he sucked in a breath. How was he supposed to do this? "Iola, what happened exactly?"

Iola put her hand to her face, and Frank could see that she was trying to regain her composure. "We went to the park for a picnic. The county park with all the trees and paths and things. We went to the very center, near the lake. We went swimming. Joe stayed in longer then me." Iola hiccupped again. "I just was going to get the basket, when I came back, Joe was gone and―" she broke off again, "Frank, I think you have to see this."

Frank nodded. He just needed to get out, to _do _something. He glanced at his father, asking him with his eyes to come. Fenton shook his head, looking down at Frank's mother, who still hadn't stopped shaking. Frank nodded and touched Iola on the shoulder. "Let's go."

The park was just closing by the time they got there. Frank was surprised to see no cop cars there, "Who'd you tell?" he asked, looking down at Iola.

"Con Riley. He was already by here." She pointed to the left, "turn here."

They went deep into the woods, finding a clearing at almost the exact center of the park. "What'd you want to show me?" Frank and Iola got out of the car and Iola led him to the other side of the lake.

Frank sucked in his breath, staring at the crimson liquid that was splattered all over the now-dark grass. It seemed to glow in the dying summer light. "Is-is all of this Joe's?" there was enough blood to make another full human. It was _everywhere_.

Iola shrugged, tears pouring down her cheeks once again. "That's one of the thing's Con's trying to find out. He took samples of it from everywhere."

Frank backed up, away from the dark pools. "We shouldn't be here. Technically, we're contaminating a crime scene." He put his arm around Iola's thin shoulders, "Thanks, though, for bringing me here."

In his head, Frank was screaming. Why did this have to happen? There was no motive, or at least not one that came to mind immediately. The Hardy's hadn't solved a big case since school let out a month ago.

Iola's body was rigid. "I love him, Frank. I do. You have to bring him back so I can tell him that."

Frank squeezed Iola once before letting her go. "I love him too. I'll find him before you know it."

If he was still alive.

Frank walked Iola back to her door when he dropped her off. Chet was sitting outside with a telescope, apparently kicking off another hobby. "Hey Frank, you and Joe trade girlfriends?" he asked, looking up a Frank with a smile that was gone in a few seconds when he saw his friend's expression. "What's wrong?"

"Call the guys, Chet, we're starting a search party tomorrow. Joe's gone."

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	3. Searching

**I own nothing**

Frank pushed his hands through his hair, not even aware that he was doing it. It couldn't have been a worse day. A warm rain fell over the area, wind howled through the trees. Despite that, though, Frank was deeply moved.

Chet had called Biff, who had called Tony, who had called Phil. Somewhere along the lines, another person or two had learned about Joe's disappearance. Now it seemed as if ever kid at Bayport High had shown up.

The entire campground was being searched, not just the spot where the blood was, even though Frank himself couldn't get more then a few feet away from the luminous puddle. It was the only part still roped off with the tape that was so familiar DO NOT CROSS —DO NOT CROSS.

A hand rested on his shoulder, he looked around. Dad. "You alright son?" his voice was just loud enough to be heard over the wind. Frank nodded, wishing for a split second that he was younger. That his father would take care of everything, and then he'd go to sleep and the next day Joe would be sitting there, bursting with recounts of his adventures.

Instead, Frank managed to fill his lungs, managed to get words out. "I'll be better when I figure out how much of that blood is Joe's." he nodded to the puddle, and felt his dad's grip become tighter, almost to the point where it hurt.

"Frank, the results just came in. Con phoned me. They took a sample from every little puddle, I think." Frank sensed his father's trepidation. This was bad news. He didn't want to hear it — "Frank, it all belongs to your brother."

There was so much blood. So, so much. It swam in front of Frank's eyes, and suddenly he realized that it wasn't the rain that obscuring his vision, it was his own tears. How could somebody give up so much blood and live?

His dad was still talking, his voice coming in and out, like a busted radio. Maybe it was the wind that was making it do that. Maybe it was Frank's head that was busted. "The lab geeks think that it's more than a third of Joe's total amount of blood."

Frank pushed himself away. He didn't want to hear this anymore. The numbers were no longer making sense. He had to do something. Had to look.

He joined Biff and Tony who were doing to hardest task. Looking through the pit which, so good for sledding in the winter, had now turned into a swamp like mass that oozed up your clothes. His friends nodded when Frank joined them, but said nothing, for which Frank was grateful. He didn't need to talk right now.

Nobody left that day, and those that did only left after expressing their hopes that Joe would be found soon. Frank, Chet, and Biff stayed until the last rays of light left the area. It wasn't until the sky had turned to an almost claustrophobic black that they gave up for the day.

Frank could read in his friends eyes that they were confused. What was happening? The whole situation made no sense. None of the Hardy's had solved a huge case recently. All the violent enemies were in jail. Who had taken Joe now?

And what of the blood? When they found Joe, would he be alive?

**I don't know if I'm going to kill Joe yet. But as you can probably tell, this is a Frank themed story. Review.**


	4. Promising

**I own it not**

The search expanded the next day. Frank did the few blocks to the left of the park, followed always by one of his friends. Chet was always by his side. Frank was more thankful then he could ever put into words for his companionship.

Again, tons of people turned out, but less then the day before. Everybody in Frank's and Joe's class searched, but news had spread of the "donator" of the blood. They all knew that they were probably searching for a corpse.

Frank had a kind of nervous energy that made it impossible for him to stay still for more than a few minutes at a time. He went from one spot to another, searching every nook and cranny for his brother.

His dad searched with him, always staying within a few hundred yards. He had forbidden his mother from joining the search, insisting that she had to stay by the phone in case of a ransom demand. So far, none had been made.

Frank stood still for one minute around noon, wiping sweat from his forehead. It was a hot, sticky day. The kind of day where the air would cling to you like a blanket, smothering you so that you couldn't go too fast. Frank cursed the weather.

He stared at a bush, not seeing it, thinking of Joe. He and his brother were close ― much closer then any other siblings they knew. Every time Joe had gone missing, and he had gone missing quite a few times, Frank would get the feeling that he should've done something to stop it.

In that minute, the guilt nearly consumed him. He felt like he would drown right then and there. He would die if he didn't find Joe.

"Frank?"

The hand on his shoulder, the voice. It couldn't be Joe, yet it was something that Joe would've done. "Yeah Chet?"

Chet's voice was low, and Frank had the impression that he was staring at the same spot Frank was, "We'll find him. I swear we will."

Frank's voice was hollow, void of emotion, "Will he be alive, Chet? Will he be alright?" A surge of anger pulsed through his body, "Why all this? What's the point?" he kicked a can, sending it flying into the bush. He looked at his friend, whose eyes were wide.

"I swear I'll kill them Chet. I'll make them pay for what they did to my brother." Frank's voice was hard and cold, becoming something less then human. Chet seemed to understand.

"I'll help you, Frank. We all will. Don't stop fighting for him." Frank slowly came back from wherever he had been. His shoulders slumped forward, the energy drained out of him. He was suddenly so tired...

"Let's keep looking."

Frank moved forward, pushing away the image of his brother, dead in a puddle of crimson blood.

**Reviews are pretty.**


	5. Boating

**I own nothing**

Frank swept the hair out of his eyes and gazed across Barment Bay, remembering the last time he had been out on it with Cally. How long ago that seemed now! Two and a half weeks ― an eternity had passed since Joe had gone missing.

A hand was on his shoulder. Chet's. Next to him was Phil, and across the dock was Tony getting out the _Napoli_ with Biff and Jerry. The boys, going in the _Napoli_ and the _Sleuth_ were going to check the caves for Joe. They were the only people still looking besides a couple of men on the police force and Mr. Hardy.

The friends took their boats to the farthest cave first, the trip making Frank suddenly aware of how cold it was for the summer, especially with the fog.

Somebody started the whistling. If Frank was pressed to guess, he'd probably say Tony, who was the musical one of the group. It was sad and slow, a very elaborate song that everybody was soon whistling a harmony for. It gave the boys something to do.

Frank steered to a cave, picking this one because the mouth was close enough to the bay to be accessible to thieves and bandits. _And murderers_, Frank thought before pushing the thought out of his mind.

Tony pulled his boat in next to the _Sleuth_ and, leaving Tony behind to watch the crafts, they ventured into the cave.

Frank was searching the caves along the bay only because he had already searched every other nook and cranny in town. His only hope left, besides going out-of-state, was the caves. So far, they too had turned up dry.

When the boys left the fourth cave without finding anything that remotely resembled a clue, Frank was ready to give up. The entire bay was engulfed in fog that made it almost impossible for the boys to steer their boats. He was about to suggest going back to the dock and searching somewhere else on land when he saw something in the water.

He bent over and picked up the object, gasping as he realized what it was. A shirt.

Not just any shirt either. This was Joe's favorite dress shirt of all time, and Frank could even remember Joe putting it on the night he went missing.

Hugging the cloth to his chest, Frank thanked that Lord for this clue. It was the first one they had that Joe may have a shot at not being dead. "We'll search the caves around here." Frank said, his voice thick with emotion.

Chet smiled, recognizing the shirt and being just as pleased by it. Biff let out a whoop which was soon accompanied by screams and shouts from the other boys as they docked the boats.

But two more caves revealed nothing, even though Frank was sure that he had examined every inch of both of them. The last cave around the place he had found the shirt didn't seem that promising either, up higher then Frank would suspect somebody would like to climb.

He checked it out, of course, leaving Jerry behind to watch the boats. They climbed up the steep rock face, huffing and puffing by the time they reached the mouth of the cave (Chet huffing more then the rest of them)

All the boys knew that this cave was different when Frank put his head in and let out a scream.

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	6. Finding

**I own nothing**

Frank raced to the center of the cave, his friends behind him. He knelt down next to his brother's body, turning him over to reveal a pale white figure. Frank sensed his friends looking away ― he even heard a retching sound from one. Frank wished he could look away. Instead, he forced himself to feel the side of his brother's neck for a pulse.

A sound that was half-sob, half-laugh escaped from Frank's mouth. He looked around at his friends, nodding his head and laughing and crying at the same time. "A pulse!...He's alive!"

But that didn't mean he would stay alive if Frank didn't get him out of there, fast. His brother's appearance was so different from what he remembered...

Joe's body was a pale white. His breaths, few and far between, were ragged and forced. His clothes were torn and bruises ran up and down his arms and calves. His face was covered in dried blood, though Frank would have to clean it out to find where it was coming from. Some bones were bent the wrong way. Some might be broken.

Frank slipped his arms under Joe's body. When his friends came forward to help carry the boy Frank waved them off. "He's so light...I wouldn't be surprised if he lost twenty pounds.

Hugging his brother to his chest, careful not to move any broken bones, Frank stood up. With Tony leading the way, the boys made their careful way back down the treacherous cliff side.

After skidding and nearly falling twice, Frank realized that, light as his brother was, he couldn't risk dropping him. He waved Chet over and, by draping an arm around each of their shoulders, they managed to get Joe down to the boat.

Jerry had started the _Sleuth_ up as soon as he saw Joe. Tony readied the _Napoli_ as Chet and Frank made Joe as safe as possible on the boat.

Chet drove the boat out of the small harbor, going as fast as possible without jostling Joe.

Frank was alarmed by the fact that Joe hadn't stirred yet. Was something wrong with his head? Pushing that fact to the back of his mind, Frank tried to figure out the extent of his brother's injuries.

When he gently mopped up the blood, Frank realized that the gash on Joe's face was long and deep, probably in need of stitches. He was about to lift Joe's shirt up when he felt Joe shiver.

Joe's eyes fluttered. "Joe!" Frank felt tears in his eyes again.

"Frank," the word was thin and wobbly, barely more then a whisper. "Kew you'd find me." With that, he passed out again.

**Review? Merry Christmas (Eve)!**


	7. Checking

**I own nothing**

The ride back to shore was...terrifying. Frank had his little brother in his arms, right in front of him, but he still didn't know the full extent of his injuries. For all he knew, Joe could drop dead any moment.

Gently, Frank lifted his brother's shirt, his eyes automatically drifting towards the large welts that covered his chest and stomach. Not only was his entire torso covered, but Joe was much thinner, his ribs so close to the surface that Frank could count them.

A drop of water splashed onto Joe's stomach. Frank wiped it away, suddenly realizing that he was crying. Whether from fear or happiness or joy...all he knew was that once the drops started down, they didn't stop.

Frank turned to his brother's head. He had already wrapped the old wound, praying that it hadn't already been an infection. Frank had noticed that Joe's pupil's were dilated last time he had opened his eyes, making him sure that Joe had a concussion.

Chet turned around, looking at the brothers. "He's alright, Frank. We did it."

Frank shook his head, remembering the blood in the park. It was amazing that Joe had survived on so little blood, especially after being obviously beaten.

The question that nagged at his mind ― the one that Frank had been trying to avoid ― was who. Who had done this to his brother? And why? There was no obvious answer to either of these questions.

The shore was in sight now. Frank once again put his arms under his brother, marveling at how light he was. As soon as the boat slowed, Frank stepped out onto the rocky beach, laying his limp brother out. He checked the pulse again. It was still there, beating softly but steadily.

After that, the events came in a blur. Jerry, the only one with the foresight to bring a cell phone, had called for an ambulance. Before it got there, Frank borrowed Jerry's phone, suddenly remembering a very important call he had forgotten to make.

"Mom?" he said when the phone was picked up. "Mom, we found him."

There was a sound like the phone was dropped, then hurriedly picked back up again. "Is he...?" Laura Hardy's voice was shaking.

"No mom, he's right here. He's out of it, but he's alive." Saying the words made Frank laugh out loud. "He's alive mom!"

Frank dropped the phone, doubling over in hysterics. He laughed until he cried, then he started laughing again.

Chet knelt down next to him, his voice low and calm, his brow furrowed. It took Frank a minute to realize that Chet was worried about him. It had been awhile since he knew somebody was worried about something other then Joe.

"We did good, Frank." Chet said softly, patting his friend on the back just like Joe would. "You did good." A short pause, "look, here's the ambulance, Frank. You go on with them. I'll tell your mom where you've gone and follow behind with the guys."

Without Chet's help, Frank would have still been sitting on that beach in hysterics. Without Chet's help, he would never had gotten to the hospital. Without his help, his mom wouldn't have known, and the world would have come crashing down on Frank's head until he couldn't take it anymore.

But Chet did help, and that kept Frank sane. For a while.

**I love Chet. He's so nice. So anyway, ya'll review now, ya' hear?**


	8. Reassuring

**I don't own it. Nope.**

Frank stirred when he felt a hand descend onto his shoulder. He looked up, startled, then relaxed when he saw his father. His dad smiled, sitting next to him. "How's he doing?"

Frank looked up, saw that Iola, Chet, Aunt Gertrude, his mother, and Cally were all listening. He chose his words wisely. "He's doing...as well as you could hope."

That was the truth, Joe was alive after all. But he had lost so much blood that even after consuming five pints his blood pressure was still below normal. That coupled with starvation, twelve broken bones, more then one cracked rib, and a mild concussion convinced that doctors that there was internal bleeding. Joe was in surgery now.

Cally sat down on Frank's other side, warming his hand with hers. He smiled gratefully at her, the expression fleeting. "Thanks for coming , Cal."

Tears came to Cally's eyes as she searched for words, "I couldn't let you go through this alone. Joe's become my friend, too."

Chet and Iola sat down across from the Hardy's, their featured set in the same anxious expression. Iola had been crying. It struck Frank suddenly how alike the siblings were, being only a year apart.

Frank looked up at his mother, who had tears running down her face. "It's alright mom, he'll be okay." Frank's voice cracked half-way through the statement.

Fenton leaned closer to his son. "I've been in contact with the police, they're searching the cave now. It appears that it has been abandoned for at least three days."

Frank gripped the sides of his chair, his knuckles turning red under the pressure. How could someone do that? Cast his brother aside like an unwanted piece of luggage? Who were these people? He swore, as he had so many times in the past weeks, that he would find these men.

Chet reached across the gap that separated the friends and patted Frank's leg. Frank looked gratefully at his oldest friend, wondering how he could have lived these weeks without his help and support.

Aunt Gertrude was pacing through the small waiting area, muttering curses under her breath about slow doctors and lazy nurses.

After an hour and a half of little conversation, Frank was ready to explode. They had spent the last hour convincing themselves and each other that Joe was all right. Now he needed to know for himself.

As he was getting up to go over the clerk at the desk, a woman with light brown hair in a white coat came over to their little group. "Are you the family of Joe Hardy?"

They all stood up, waiting expectantly.

"I'm Dr. Peggy. Don't worry, Joe will be fine. Part of his lung was torn by a broken rib, but we got to it in time to get the bleeding under control. Other then that, he has more then a couple of broken bones, so he won't be returning to football for quite a while." She paused, "normally, I'd ask how he got these injuries, but knowing that he's a Hardy makes me think I'd rather not know."

Frank couldn't hold it in any longer, "When can we see him?" he asked.

The doctor smiled and leaned forward, "Well, technically not for a day or two, but I can sneak one person in now."

Frank nodded. He needed to talk to Joe.

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	9. Seeing

**Just so you know, I don't own it.**

Frank followed the doctor down a long hallway and into a small room. Joe was the only occupant, and Frank had to work not to cry when he saw him.

Joe seemed tiny, with tubes sticking out of him leading to gigantic machines that monitored everything he did. Frank swallowed hard, forcing himself to go by the bed and stand next to his brother.

"The drug we gave him for the pain should be wearing off. I'm going to give him another one in five minutes. You can have those five minutes alone." The doctor's voice was low, and Frank nodded, grateful.

Frank clasped Joe's hand. The hand, like his brother's entire body, seemed faintly pink. Like he had been dipped into a vat of paint. Frank, acting on impulse, smoothed his brother's unruly hair. He saw that they had just a lot of the front hair off, and now the only thing that was there was a long, thin, stitched-up scar.

Frank looked around at the machines, watching as a liquid got pumped into his brother's body. Another tube brought in blood, and yet another brought in a brownish liquid that Frank assumed was food, though he wasn't quite sure.

"Frank?"

Frank looked down, not knowing if he had really heard the thin, rasping whisper. Joe's eyes weren't open, but his lips were moving. Frank leaned closer.

"Knew you'd find me."

Frank swallowed hard. He was _not_ going to cry. He wasn't the one who got kidnapped and beaten and left to die. He didn't deserve to cry. Instead, Frank managed to get out in as strong a voice as he could manage. "Listen, Joe. I'll always find you. Got it? Always.

Joe nodded, sweat coming to his forehead. Frank knew that he must be in an incredible amount of pain. He wished more then anything that he could take the pain away, but since that wasn't an option, he settled with leaning forward and kissing his brother on the forehead. God, he loved him so much. He didn't know what he could do without him.

The doctor came in again, glancing apologetically at Frank before she administered the drug into Joe's IV. "Stay with him until he's asleep." She said before leaving the room again.

Joe's eyes started to close almost immediately, but his grip on Frank's hand stayed firm. It wasn't until unconsciousness finally took him that Frank was able to pry the fingers from around his wrist. Then, after taking one final look at Joe, he left the room.

He was going to figure out who did this.

**Okay, review.**


	10. Catching

**I own it not.**

Frank told Chet about Joe in as few words as he could manage. After seeing his friend's face turn from a sickly green to an anxious white and finally settle on an angry red, Frank knew that he was leaving his brother in capable hands. He kissed his mother, reassuring her once again that Joe was fine. He nodded at his father, telling him in one motion, _I'm ready._

On the way down to the lobby, Frank discovered that while he had been searching for his brother, Fenton Hardy had been searching for his kidnapper. "Alex Caivano is the cousin of the ruthless Jonathan Nash, the man who has been raping and killing teenage boys all over the East Coast." Fenton sighed. "Two months ago, I was asked to do some digging about Nash, but I stopped when another boy was killed in New York."

Frank gaped at him. Why would his father take a case that would put both him and Joe in danger?

Fenton saw him. "Don't look at me like that. I was hoping to catch him before he got to New York. I was trying to get you out of danger." He sighed again, getting into the car. "I guess that didn't work." They drove out of the hospital parking lot.

"Nash was caught a week before Joe was taken, but at the time of his arrest his cousin swore that he'd have revenge by hurting every teenager related to the cops who put his cousin in prison." Fenton looked at Frank. "I'm sorry, Frank. You know that criminals are always ranting about stuff like that. Nobody took him seriously."

"Why wasn't he put away with his cousin?" Frank asked quietly, still trying to digest all this information. Why hadn't he heard any of this?

"The police couldn't get him on any of the crimes, so they had to let him go." Fenton responded sadly, turning off on a small road. "Anyway, Con and I have been searching for this guy for weeks now and we just got a tip to his hideout." He looked around sternly.

"Frank, I only brought you along because I know that you want to see that monster in prison, but you are not to do _anything_. Got that? He's dangerous, and I can't let you fall into his hands too." He stopped the car within sight of a small house on the edge of a small lake. Other cars, presumably belonging to the police, were near theirs.

Frank got out quickly and followed his dad to Con Riley. "Hey Fenton." The cop greeted in a voice that was barely heard. "Why'd you bring him?" he asked, gesturing towards Frank. "You know what type this guy is."

Fenton nodded. "Frank needed to see this, Con. He promised to stay out of the way."

Con frowned. "I don't know about this, but I guess there's nothing to be done now. The order to move in was just issued. Let's go."

The dozen or so officers advanced stealthily towards the house, making sure that not one sound would alert the man to their presence. Frank strained his ears and could hear boxed talking, like a TV set or a radio, over the wind. He was in there! Without warning, his heart started beating faster.

The police circled the house in pairs. Frank stayed next to his father in the front as Chief Collig went up to the door. In the fading darkness, Frank saw him count down from three. On the third count, the door was kicked open and four officers went into the house, guns at the ready, barking orders.

The back door flew open at almost exactly the same moment and a figure fled across the muddy lawn, only to be tackled by an officer Frank knew.

As the man's face was brought into view, Frank started seeing red. He rarely let emotions control him like this, but at this moment, he welcomed them. He imagined this man torturing his brother...saw Joe's unmoving body...thought of the other boys this man must have killed.

He was on him, showering him with blows in every part that he would reach. "You monster!" Frank screamed, tears streaming down his cheeks as his father hauled him off the criminal. "Monster."

His father held him as the man was lead away. Frank's tears subsided, his body quit shaking. It was over.

**Next chapter will be the last, so review everyone.**


	11. Ending

**Still owning nothing...**

Five weeks. It had been five weeks since a maniac had kidnapped Joe. Four weeks since Frank was sure he'd never see his brother again. Three weeks since most people had stopped looking for a kid who'd had most of his blood dumped out of him. Two weeks since Joe was found, since Frank was able to his brother again. One week of pacing the hospital floors every day for a few minutes with him. And now they were in the car, just the two of them, on the way back home.

Joe sat shotgun, watching his brother driving. Watching as he looked at him every five seconds. He knew that his skin was still too pale, that he was still too thing, that the casts all over his body made his brother angry. Not at him ― never at him. At the person who had done it to him.

"Frank?" he waited until his brother was looking at him. Until he could see his brown eyes. "This isn't your fault Frank." Frank had an over-protective disorder. He'd had it since the day Joe had been born. "It would have happened even if you weren't there." A quick glance out the windshield. "Car!"

Frank swerved in time to miss the car and get back onto the right lane. He still hadn't said anything, but now he kept his eyes on the road, one hand pushing his hair out of his eyes. Finally, he said something, still not looking at Joe. "Joey, you don't know how hard this is for me. I thought you were dead! I almost gave up. That... that day on the Bay. I wouldn't have gone into that cave if the guys hadn't been there. I was too tired of getting my hopes up and having them crushed."

Joe wished he could move his arms, just so that he could wrap them around Frank. "You wouldn't have given up Frank. I know you. You're a perfectionist."

Frank looked at Joe and smiled. Joe was probably the only one who really did know him. They spent so much time together. That was what Frank was afraid he'd lose if he couldn't find Joe. Not only his brother, his partner. But his best friend.

He reached out a hand and tussled Joe's hair. "You're right kiddo."

A week later football practices would start. Two weeks after that came the start of the school year. With the coming weeks there were also dangers. Unseen cases waiting to be solved. Unknown villains waiting for the perfect opportunity. Uncalled for dangers to the Hardy Brothers.

**Fin.**


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